This Isn't a Kissing Story, Is It?
by mosylu
Summary: Cisco and Caitlin watch the Princess Bride again. Somebody should tell Westley and Princess Buttercup that true love can survive a lot worse than death. Slightly future Killervibe fluff.


For my cuddle prompts series on Tumblr, starlabsforever asked for cuddling with a first kiss

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Caitlin heard the familiar menu-screen music as she brought napkins from her kitchen. "We're watching _The Princess Bride_?" she asked, setting the napkins on the coffee table and settling down next to Cisco on the couch.

"You said it was my pick," he said, hitting play and accepting his pint of ice cream from her. "This is what I pick."

"How many times have you seen this movie?"

"Mmmm, lost count," he said, waving a hand as incredibly rudimentary video game graphics, and then an incredibly young Fred Savage appeared on the screen.

She sipped her hot chocolate. "And how many times have you watched it just to make a move on someone?"

He grinned at her and waggled his finger. "Classified information."

She rested her head back against the cushions and watched him watch the movie, occasionally mouthing a line of dialogue. Her chest felt full, overflowing. That had been happening a lot lately.

It was now three years, six months, and eighteen days since she'd become Killer Frost. She had a running count in her head from the moment that her life had split into before and after.

Her life was littered with cracks like that, she thought wryly. She was a earthquake landscape, fault lines everywhere.

When she'd first returned from her long, painful journey of reflection and rebuilding, Cisco had been distant - painfully so. She'd told herself that she understood. She'd done terrible things. Even if she hadn't been in her right mind, she still had to atone for them. And then she'd left him on the same day Barry had. She refused to apologize for that; she had needed the time away from Star Labs. But it had still been hard on him.

She'd worked as hard as she could to regain his trust. Everyone's trust. She'd spent a lot of time wrestling with her powers, bringing them under control, ensuring that she was the master of them and not the other way around. But it had changed her in ways she was sure she would be discovering for the rest of her life.

And of course, quite aside from the things she'd done, he had changed too. The events of the past years, good and bad, had instilled a strength in him - or brought it out. He was steadier, more centered, more sure of himself. She couldn't say that he'd grown up - he'd been an adult before that. But he'd grown into himself, filling out his place in the world.

In those early days, the worry had gnawed that his place in the world would have no room for her.

But over time, they'd slowly, slowly found their way back to each other. It wasn't quite the way it had been before. They'd both changed too much for that. But somewhere in the rubble, they'd found enough of a foundation to start building their friendship back again.

Sometimes she thought they were even closer than they had been before.

Sometimes she thought -

She watched Westley tenderly telling Buttercup, _Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for awhile._

Her throat closed up.

Cisco looked over. "Hey," he said.

"Hmm?"

He held his arm out, and after a moment of surprise, she scooted across the cushion and into his side. His arm settled around her shoulders, and he pressed his nose to her temple. "It's a fairy tale," he said under the dialogue. "Fairy tales are simplistic by nature."

"I know."

He breathed in and out against her hair. "I love this movie. But lately I've been realizing it's wrong about something important."

She reached up and put her hand over his, rubbing her thumb over the empty spot on his ring finger - empty for over a year now. "You don't believe true love can survive death?"

"Oh, no, I know it can. But I don't believe you necessarily only get one."

They looked at each other for a moment. Even though she was sitting down, Caitlin could swear the ground felt unsteady under her feet.

After a long time, he looked back at the screen. She rested her head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat, felt the light jolt of his ribs as he laughed at some line he knew by heart. Her skin tingled where his fingers traced circles on her upper arm.

On-screen, true love triumphed. Buttercup and Westley defeated Prince Humperdinck and galloped away with their loyal friends. Peter Falk said in his gravelly voice, _Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure._

She lifted her head to look at him, expecting him to be smiling sentimentally, like he had every other time they'd watched this together. But he wasn't.

He was looking at her.

 _This one left them all behind._

It felt not only right, but inevitable to lean toward him as he moved toward her. For their lips to touch, press, move against each other. For her arms to find their way around his neck, for his hands to settle at her waist, for them to pull each other closer.

When the music over the credits ended, he lifted his head. There was a cautious, seeking look in his eyes, barely visible in the dark room.

"Don't stop," she whispered.

He let out his breath and smiled at her. "As you wish."

FINIS


End file.
